Chapter 2

[thenine]

Who: OTA
Where: Quad
When: Week 2, Day 5 - Week 4, Day 6
Summary: Chapter 2 prompts!
Restrictions/Warnings: Violence, blood, et cetera. For anything surpassing 'R' on a rating scale, please create your own log.
Notes: Please title your subject line in the following format -- Open / Closed | Date. OOC event information can be found here.

Quick Navigation
The Nine
The Company
Westies
True Leithians
Leith
Resistance
The RAC

The Nine: Poisoned Well

With the heir delivered and Lady Derrish returning to health, balance has been maintained amongst the Nine. Swift and efficient - and, some would say, unbelievable - medical attention administered may have steadied the Lady's life, but for those in the ruling houses, the atmosphere of tenuous peace only grows thicker. Land Kendry has launched an investigation - with particular focus on Land Hyponia - into the source of the 'attack' on Lady Derrish's health. Of course, that is only the surface, and some suggest, with hushed voices, that there may be more to Land Kendry's goals than to weed out an assailant. Land Hyponia has long since been in support of maintaining the Seventh Generation Accords, which it defends staunchly against any opposition. One of the most agitated among those in disagreement with the Accords is Land Kendry. Now is the perfect opportunity for them to rearrange the pieces in their favor, and with the information they've fabricated, they'll be able to replace the head of Land Hyponia with someone who is - at least hopefully - more pliable to their agenda. The Derrish have their own suspicions, the cure surfacing all too conveniently timed to have been a coincidence. When Land Kendry's investigation procures evidence pointing to Land Hyponia as the culprits, inflaming the crime with implied - yet vague - ties to the resistance, the Derrish publically accept the accusation. Behind closed doors, the solution seemed to have come as uncannily easily as the cure, and suspicions only rise. But for now, the two houses remain allied - ready to use one another for their own interests. For those among the nobility, it's the time to reevaluate alliances, assuring the old and gathering the new. The more support you have, the safer you are - unless, of course, you chose the wrong friend. Some turn to other members of the nobility, some to the RAC for hired guards, some to the Company to mandate investigations unsuitable for Killjoys, and some may even turn to the underbelly of society to accomplish anything necessary to stay on top. Or to simply stay alive.

The Company: Cleaning House

There will be no accolades, and no rest, for the hard working Company officials following the response to the True Leithan attacks. Assignments shift from one thing to the next, moving from bureaucratic nightmare to bureaucratic nightmare. While there’s always busy work to distract from the intrigue behind the scenes, it’s not liable to be any safer. Some officials will be charged with maintaining peace and order on Leith, as the outbreak of a pandemic slowly spreads over the moon. From helping the afflicted find their way to a place of treatment, to safe and efficient body disposal—burning corpses by the hundreds—to attempting to track down the source of the virus, it's best anyone assigned here take heed ‘lest they find themselves falling ill as well. Westerley, on the other hand, is a different kind of headache. With Harvest Week in swing, most company officials will be reaching for a drink of their own at the end of their shifts. Rowdy workers celebrating their time off, spending their hard earned Joy frivolously, and citizens whisked away by the atmosphere of celebration all mingle throughout Old Town. Property damage, fighting, less than subtle illegal activity, and crowding all become more of an issue than they usually are during this time. It's the perfect setting to lay down the law, or to not be noticed by it. On top of it all, each and every member of the Company's workforce can expect to have their documents double and triple-checked. Those with any suspected ties to Leith are likely to undergo a more serious investigation. One-on-one interrogations become common practice, and whether you're trusted or suspect, you may come face to face with a companion in your duties. True Leithan sympathizers are what the Company review is after, but anything else unturned will surely not be ignored. Cover your bases.

Westies: Harvest Week

Harvest week is in full swing throughout Westerley - visa workers have been shuttled back in droves from their time on Leithian farms, many of whom were willing to take some of their observations to information brokers for a price. Most had superficial information to sell (the state of unease on the average farm due to the impending Accords, the increased suspicion that the migrant workers were forced to endure, the fear of retaliation by the rebellion for the True Leithian attacks), others with reports of increased security and weapons caches on the farms of those whose sympathies lie with the “heroes” of the attack in Old Town. Old Town, however, is even more of a chaotic mesh of humanity with the mass influx of returning bodies. Bars stay busy day and night, the hokk and ale flow almost faster than most can keep up, and many Enforcers and Killjoys alike can make a good bit of extra joy (or free drinks) by moonlighting as security at the more popular locations. Despite all of the fun to be had, there is still the undercurrent of unrest, because Company checks have increased even more and Intake has become a revolving door of petty criminals being held for the smallest infractions. Everyone is on edge as the Resistance grumbles and the Nine search the shadows for something or perhaps someone. The unrest only worsens once Leith is placed under quarantine. And through it all, criminal activity is on the rise. Somehow, despite the strict regulation and transport of migrant workers, there is an increased access to Jakk and Bliss. Norn has an ever growing market, and weapons dealers are in high demand both in Eulogy and by private buyers alike. Something is brewing beneath the revelry, and no one wants to be caught unable to defend themselves, it seems. Not that any amount of firepower can defend against disease when P43X shows up on W3D7--but it can certainly make the symptoms worse.

True Leithians: Second Stage

Wounded and pressed to a corner, the beast rears its head and bares a maw of teeth and ruthless pursuit. The True Leithian organization does not take pause to mend wounds left in the wake of last week’s retaliation, no. They do not seek the comfort of safe haven and recovery. Instead they turn their anger and fear inward, sacrificing their own for what they believe to be the greater good. On Week 2, Day 6, three individuals slip into the crowds of Leith, mingling with the revelers and the families celebrating Harvest Week. They share smiles and laughter, they share conversation and drinks, but most importantly, they share infection. Each of the three is responsible for disseminating P43X, a viral bioweapon designed by Zan Nikora on behalf of the military in years past. During its conception, the aim of P43X was simple: to create a weapon which could demoralize and destabilize an entire population within a matter of days. To create madness that builds in the blood and eats into the brain, spreading through every tier of society. And though its use has long been out of commission, its engineer has lingered. Zan Nikora, kidnapped and held under threat of death not to himself but to those he holds dearest, is made to choose between the lives of his family on Westerley or the strangers on Leith. His choice is obvious, though far from easy. Reassembling the buried curse takes time, supplies, and testing. He is provided amply with the last two but scarcely with the first. But still he complies. When his madness maker is complete and his existence becomes a potential loose end, it’s not freedom that Zan Nikora tastes, but the poison of his own medicine. Only once the voices in his head have risen above whispers and turned to screams, when his mind can no longer hold secrets worth sharing, does he see his family again. It takes six days*. Six days and Zan Nikora stumbles through Old Town, eyes unseeing, mind riddled with disease—infection spreading. Mod Note: *W3D6. Cure and vaccines will be developed and disseminated beginning on W4D3, but will not be fully administered to all locations until W4D5.

Leith: Pocket Posies

Harvest Week in Leith marks a period of joy and relief. Bazaars are open longer, the ordinary bustle of the business day replaced with celebration and festivities throughout the evening hours. Vendors offer games for adults and children alike, the sky is a constant wash of soft pinks, purples, and greens from holographic firework shows, and music fills the air from different stages. All walks of life are welcome to join in the merriment, just so long as they have the right to be there. Anyone suspected of an invalid visa or citizenship papers are dealt with harshly, but quietly. Tucked away into the darkness of a holding cell like all of Leith’s more problematic elements. It is a time of peace and relief, this week, and they will not abide disruption. But within the hallowed days of celebration, a sickness grows, incubating. Spreading. First, it begins with an ache deep within the muscles. The body tires too quickly, the flesh burns with a blanket of rising fever. Whispers skirt at the edge of hearing, unintelligible but audible, filling the audio cortex with illusions and lies. Food loses its appeal, though the body yearns dearly for energy it cannot hold, and breathing becomes tighter, harder. Next the tide of high fevers, of lethargy. The brain devolves into paranoia and mania, the mind races with delusions and hallucinations. Pain follows, a pain that seems to emanate from every nerve without relief or pause, seeping through the muscles and aching within the very bones of a person. Some may wish for death, and for many, that wish will be granted in an unending sleep when the fatigue pulls darkness across the mind, plunges the last thoughts of a person into static slumber. But not all will succumb so readily, and therein is the weakness that ultimately shelved P43X during its initial creation. Its impacts are not uniform—while much of the population suffers dearly, most are sustained with timely medical interventions, and many others recover with the prowess of their own immune system. For Leith, bountiful in money and supplies, most of P43X’s more fatal properties are circumvented or delayed. But even in this lush world of affluence and peace, there are the poor, the underprivileged, and the weak. They are not afforded the same haste of care, the same salvation. Instead, they’re given graves of sanitizing fires, and their bodies turn to ash.

Resistance: Sleeping Dogs

The chaos of the festivities that go along with Harvest Week provides the perfect cover for the Resistance to begin moving once again. New cells need to be formed in the wake of so many executions and new members need to be recruited. Info brokers with Resistance-leaning sympathies have an opportunity to make a little extra joy by putting the disconnected sympathizers in contact with one another, aiding the vetting of Company insiders that need new handlers within the organization. For Resistance members already embedded within, they need to work now to find new locations to store what supplies remain and to begin rebuilding the stockpiles of weapons and supplies re-confiscated by the Company. Some may have heard of abandoned mines or facilities that can be retrofitted out in the Badlands while others are needed to track down rumors of Company made fallout shelters located within the under-city tunnels. For this, Company moles are essential - the only hope of accessing these shelters is with long forgotten Company passcodes. And the Scarbacks, well. Everyone’s heard rumors that there are many within their ranks willing to help with recruitment and contraband transportation, though there’s little the Company can do to restrict their movements at this time. Because of this, Scarbacks may also be the only ones that have a chance of getting into Leith once the quarantines go into effect. Those already aligned with the rebellion will be tasked with coordinating supply movements, making a deal or three with the devil on behalf of those unwilling to back down from the promises of the Accords. Caution and purpose should drive their movements because if the True Leithian attack is any indication… those nationalists are not going to let go of their precious land and status without a long, bloody fight.

The RAC: Holding Pattern

Warrants still flow in with a regular consistency - enough to keep the average team or agent quite busy. Every harvest season there are visa jumpers that need to be caught and low-level warrants claiming petty theft from farms by Westie migrants. The increasing number of disturbances and crimes in Old Town guarantee a plethora of local warrants to capture criminals across the moon or those that managed to escape an Enforcer’s arrest. Some, however, have either been requested by Seyah Kendry herself or volentold by their seniors within the RAC to conduct investigations into the attack on the Nine. And not all of these investigations are on the Lady’s behest. Some of the Nine aren’t quite willing to take Land Kendry’s word as law and have quietly requested their own investigations into the attack in Old Town and the Land Derrish misfortunes. (MOD NOTE: There will be a comment thread for teams to sign up for the specialized plot related warrants on the monthly warrant post, located HERE. Once teams have posted for a plot warrant, the mods will give them a location and focused assignment.)

Comments

Rhys | OTA | all month long (+ closed prompts)

[rhygret]

Week II

A - Being rich is Hard (Leith/space bars)

[ Like really. Yeah sure life's cushy as hell when you're Qreshi royalty and you have everything you could really want at the tip of your fingers, but for Rhys there's also the ever-looming reminder of the fact that he's Land Kendry. He's a member of the elite's upper crust and no matter how much he generally dislikes his family he's...allied with them. Della Seyah's words speak for all of them: she's the head of the family. And as part of that it's his duty to put up a unified front not matter how much he desperately wishes to be distinguished from them.

The Kendry name is useful, but Rhys wants more. He wants to get out of the rat race, get out of all the false smiles and pleasantries.

So it makes perfect sense when he decides to hit the upper echelon lifestyle up where smiles couldn't be faker and the pleasantries more unfounded. But hey, that's how Rich People cope. Or at least how Rhys does. So whether it's hiring his favourite bioweapon and pilotchauffeur out for a movie-slash-hokk, complaining to his fellow elites in their houses, bumming at the Company HQ after hours with his "coworkers" or just hitting up some of the more comfortable establishments of Leith, Rhys can be found there being entirely self-indulgent. Because he needs some serious R&R right now, or at least a distraction from his life in general. ]


B - Wtf Hyponia & Simms I mean seriously (Westerly)

[ No, seriously. What the heck is going on with those guys?? Hyponia's to blame for the Derrish attack? And Simms might be their ally...? Rhys has...well maybe not exactly friends but like, associates? Who are Simms and the implications of this are just insane. Sure Land Kendry can't exactly just take all of Hyponia out, but he knows the greedy looks in his relatives' eyes when he sees it. There's blood in the water and all anyone's thinking about is a way to come out on top from it while outwardly projecting an air of concern and disbelief. As if any of them wouldn't cut throats the first chance they got to seize more Qresh land for themselves.

So yeah. Predictably Rhys doesn't go in to work which ultimately doesn't matter because his job is a trophy position anyway. No one's even going to notice he isn't there, which is good. He wants to be anywhere but where Royalty and Company are, so yet again Rhys does the Totally Sane Thing and goes to get drunk off his ass. Very likely at that bar you frequent or happen to be at, for once not proudly displaying his Kendry colours. He doesn't exactly want to be associated with them right now. Or anyone.

So yeah there's definitely some well-coiffed dude just sort of leaning with his head on the bar, a tall glass of neon blue Hokk (the establishment's most expensive), running his mouth off to anyone even remotely close to him. Because again, Responsible^TM.

It's just one night. What's the harm?? ]

Week III

B - Infectionnnnn (Leith)

[ Which is to say that this is where Rhys either gets infected or gives it to you, or is hallucinating the hell out of things.

Initially Rhys doesn't even realize he's been infected. Being sick is for Poor People and the news of the infection hasn't even started circulating yet. No one knows how deadly it can be or what the symptoms are, so Rhys takes his mild fatigue as a side-effect of the recent goings on, probably slightly related to his drinking all that Hokk the week before. So he thinks nothing of it and goes about his business as usual: work, family meetings, the odd, incredibly awful and unsolicited visited of a certain Scarback, and of course going to see a black market arms dealer.

All completely routine stuff. ]

Week IV

Wildcard

[ ooc; I DON'T HAVE A LOT OF PLANS HERE aside from Rhys getting the cure, so if you wanna do something either just promot me or hmu @ owlits! ]

Crowley

[rhygret]

[ But before he does all of the above? He's going to be sending a message to that Simms associate of his, because seriously: ]

Uh. What the hell was all that about? What the heck is your family doing over there Simms? You're supposed to be our allies remember?? Allies. As in, not helping those Hyponia guys who are clearly out of their minds and a bunch of traitors?

[ He's eloquent. ]

[eusford]

I think you have the wrong person? I'm not that important, or maybe I missed out on some huge family discussion while we dined on peacock. You know me.

Which, interestingly enough, means I have no clue what they're doing either. And between you and me the possibility that something might be going on is interesting but I have zero plans on losing my head over it. :)

[rhygret]

Since when do you eat peacock??? It's not even that great. Ostrich is way better, try it baked and braised after. Preferably with saffron and herb butter.

Yeah yeah I know. You're the worst bottom feeder out there. You're just going to wait for everyone else to tear each other apart and then come in to finish off the stragglers. That's basic feuding 101.

Rhys's babymama+his husband a.k.a Lavi and Kanda

[rhygret]

[ So when he's done drinking and ignoring the Issues in his life, Rhys decides he's actually going to do something about it since he's got money to throw around and honestly? Finding out everyting secondhand by ear is what he hates most about his family. Rhys would like some answers of his own, which is why he's taking out some warrants of his own.

The first is a General warrant: He wants more information of what his fellow Kendrys are up to. Supposedly a third cousin of his has been doing some business out of Leith that Rhys would like looked into, preferably by someone tall and burly, Damian who knows how to keep their head down and not draw too much attention to themselves.

The second warrant is a little more Tenuous which is why Rhys will be contacting his Dream Team himself to get the work done. No details over the comms, just a simple message saying he has a job and he needs them to meet him on Leith so he can spread his space stds or whatever but mostly the job thing. ]

W4D5

[lotusmesenpai]

[Meeting Rhys on Leith to pick up the warrant had been easier weeks earlier - before the pandemic had broken out had seemed simple enough at the time. But then so many had gotten sick (including themselves) and the quarantine had gone into effect and so the warrant?

Still served, just much later than intended.

It's a good thing Rhys didn't give them a time limit for this one.

Still, they managed to make it through Utopia without incident - they're just sure as hell not telling Rhys how they managed that - and the case of questionable tech acquired, soon to be served.

First though.

Kanda glances back to be sure Lavi had a firm grip on the case - without actually meeting his partner's gaze - and then turns to frown at the hostess.]

We should have a private room reserved, probably under that idiot name 'Rhys'.

[The hostess checks again, offers an apology, and then leads them back through the man sitting area and into a small, well appointed room complete with plush seats and fine china neatly arranged on the table. The woman offers a polite nod before retreating, closing the sliding door softly behind her.

Kanda barely spares the room a glance. Instead, he moves over to the wide window to lean against the frame, arms crossed over his chest, gaze fixed sightless on the garden beyond, the sword once more at his hip an oddly comforting weight as he stands there, impatient to get this meeting over.]

[inksplashes]

[ Unlike his taciturn partner, Lavi is happy to be out -- away from Westerley, from those things that might make him question his neutrality. The poor will always be among those hit hardest by pandemics or natural disasters, he knows this from experience and study alike, but that knowledge doesn't make facing them any easier.

It's hard to be an impartial observer when the streets are filled with the broken and suffering.

Though -- walking through the teahouse now, he can't help but think, why aren't you all doing something?

How can they sit in their high-backed chairs and sip their tea with such genial ease?

Lavi thanks the hostess with a touch too much zeal, grateful to be removed from the public eye where his inner turmoil might be brought to light. Slouching in one of the overly decorated chairs, he hums, opens his mouth to say something to break the awkward silence around them--

And then the door opens and his face splits into a grin. Bounding to his feet, Rhys receive laughter as his only warning before Lavi descends on him like an overly-excited puppy, wrapping the lanky man in a crushing hug. ]

Oh thank the trees. I thought I was gonna have to make small talk with Yu!

Steinback

[rhygret]

[ The first thing that happens is that unsolicited visit.

Working for the Company in what is literally a glorified paper-pushing VP position doesn't exactly get Rhys a lot of visitors. He's got an assistant who brings him important things like coffee and his reports, but other than that no one comes to see him that Rhys hasn't specifically requested--which is why when, in the middle of going over a particularly long and tedious report on the amount of fuel request information reports (a report about reports. this job is the literal worst), his assistant comes in to tell him the "Uncle he requested is here" Rhys winds up spitting coffee all over his desk and coughing for a good minute or two.

There's no way that guy would...right?? Like who the hell calls for an Uncle at work. That's just drawing too much attention?? Rhys has literally no reason to ask fooh god the asshole is really here, he really just waltzed in to come to see Rhys specifically. ]

Are you crazy?? [ That would be Rhys being smooth as he hastily shuts his office door behind the offending monk, quickly checking to make sure no one's trying to peer into his office. ] I told you not to contact me at work! Are--are you guys just stupid or trying to get me killed? Because that's what's going to happen here. Me! Getting killed!

[ He hates you so much Steinback like holy crap. ]

steinback to the future

[graftage]

Relax.

[He's smiling, like he always does. Steinbeck could be bleeding out to death and he'd probably still be smiling - maybe the thing is plastered to his face permanently, by this point.]

[But even though he looks very calm and cheerful, in reality, he's feeling anything but that. The Resistance is putting pressure on him to perform, his time window for moving supplies is steadily dwindling, and above all that, he has the dreadful feeling that he's gotten infected by that bug moving throughout Leith. The fatigue, the pain...it's all just a rather uncomfortable thorn in his side. He has no time to sit down and rest, though. Sick or not, he's going to get what he came for.]

[He moves to Rhys' desk, his voice low as he glances down at it.]

I only need to be here for a moment. I'll explain to them that I've gotten the wrong name of the employee I was looking for and will leave. But Rhys, these are desperate times. You've seen what's been going on, haven't you? [He turns his head over his shoulder to look at Rhys, his look almost coy.] I need something from you, Rhys. Codes for the fallout shelters that the Company made. I need them, and I need them now.

[rhygret]

Codes for the... Are you serious, right now? You do know I'm in supply request management right? I only look at the reports for the junk Company employees ask for down on the sinkhole of a moon you guys all love so much. [ Rhys's arms come up automatically to cross over his chest in a standoffish display, his eye narrowing even if the scoff of a smirk can be seen twitching at the corners of his mouth.

It's true he doesn't technically handle any sort of information like that...but also incredibly true that he could procure it if he really needed to. There's actually very little standing in his way Company-wise except other royalty, and they wouldn't even care for something this small. ]

Noctis

[rhygret]

[ So technically Rhys doesn't actually need guns or anything like that. But black market dealers are also smugglers, and smugglers can generally get you the contraband you need and that's the reason Rhys has arranged for this particular point of contact. There are certain...things that are just infinitely more inconvenient to ask for publicly when you're a member of Qresh royalty and that's what makes this little arrangement so convenient.

He's picked a quaint little cafe for their meeting place which probably isn't all that...subtle, but again: being Qresh royalty has its perks and there's literally no one else inside but him. The place is "closed" for the day and it'll stay like that as long as he needs it to.

So hopefully this arms dealer isn't going to keep him waiting. ]

i can't believe you passed on the opportunity to use noct you like a hurricane

[uncrownings]

[The arms dealer doesn't keep him waiting, but time of day sure helps with that. Only a handful of shops and stores have closed, leaving enough business nearby to draw the eye of would-be patrons away from dark windows and empty patios. Noctis makes his way around the side, through what only Leith would consider an alley, and slips in the exit with neither fuss or attention.

He's almost surprised to find only one guy inside, but who knows, maybe he's brought along a really big gun.

Noctis' gait slows, rounding the corner of a countertop so shiny he could probably see his reflection in it, and leaving a sizeable distance between them in the process. He hasn't met this guy before, but he wouldn't be the first person asking him for something off the books. It's the reason Noctis has Lethian papers to begin with. The longer he's here the more obvious it becomes that it doesn't matter where your allegiances lie, people always need something.]

You called?

....oh my god I DID i am so ashamed of myself. have some keywords to make up for it

[rhygret]

That depends. Are you "Noctis"?

[ Rhys crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his chair in a gesture that's both standoffish and smug, just a little bit entitled. Because Rhys is--entitled, that is. Noctis isn't late by any means but Rhys has long since become accustomed to having his time treated as inherently more important than anyone else's, and it's no different in meetings like this. He's better than this smuggler in his own mind, and that's a given fact. ]

Giovanni

[rhygret]

[ And then it gets worse. Rhys goes out for the day intending to spend it how he usually does whenever he's not at work: with a Company Dog at his beck and call while he engages in the most important of business ventures. Today was technically supposed to be an easy check-up on some business deals he's procured with a few of the local brokers, but when he shows to their arranged place to meet he spends most of his time waiting and feeling...off. It sounds like someone's calling his name from time to time--a woman--but when he turns there's only Giovanni behind him, standing as stoically as ever and generally being completely silent.

It's weird because he's so sure of it, but there's no one here besides the two of them, and in the end his contact never shows. There's some message fired off his way later about their "coming down with something" and a heaping of apologies, but Rhys ignores it. His head is starting to hurt and all he really wants to do is get back on his ship and take a long, long soak to forget how shitty he's started to feel. He pushes himself up, ready to just give up on the day and call it in, but that's about the tipping point in his infection.

The room spins and Rhys stumbles back, arms flailing for something to grab onto. Hint hint Gio don't let your boss brain himself on the table now. ]

[ofobedience]

[Things have been interesting, lately. Hectic frantic manic yes with blood to be spilled and questions to be asked in the hardest (sharpest) of ways, a new official Handler and movement from one world to the next and in all honesty, he likes it like this. It's what he's made for, after all, violence and hard edges. Concerns and unrest may be sprouting like weeds but to Giovanni it's good old-fashioned fun.

Unlike this. Accompanying Company executives to stuffy meetings and on business ventures has never been what he considers a good use of his time. Even if this particular executive is a little more colourful than most, standing around with an air of vague menace can't hold a candle to menace of the more viceral kind. Still, he applies himself to the role with the same bone-deep dedication he would give to any other, and whilst Rhys waits for his no-show connection to turn up he remains alert and poised. Just in case.

It means he's ready to move the moment he sees the man he's been assigned to protect begin to stumble and flail, closing the distance between them with unnatural speed and grace. He catches him long before he can come to any harm, hands holding firm and rock-steady despite his superior's taller frame. His voice is a smooth and even thing, no outward sign of concern and yet-- this isn't right, is it? Isn't normal. Not just a random act of clumsiness.]

Sir?

week 2b

[refactor]

[ There aren't many bars that Jack frequents, and that's for multiple reasons. One, and the simplest, he's not actually much of a drinker, but two, not many bars exactly want him around. Jack's notoriety is pretty definite, but how people take him is a much more mixed bag. So depending on who he's pissed off, some bars will do their best to throw him out, while others will welcome him with quiet, but free drinks at the bar. It all depends on who you know and what they owe you.

In the case of this bar? Well, a year or so back, they'd had a particularly nasty person they wanted "taken care of" but like pretty much any Westie, lacked the money to afford it. But hearing the rumor that if you just spoke to the right people, they could always disappear in the Intake Facility, well.

Jack takes a seat, and a drink is quickly prepared and slid across the bar his way. He raises his hand with a light smile, then takes up the glass, though it's as he's about to take a drink that he actually looks at the person sitting a seat down from him. It's quiet (relatively speaking—it's Old Town, so it's still noisy), so Jack had just come here to relax briefly after his too long shift at work. It's why he likes the place. So, man, what are the chances? He laughs, then leans down a bit to take a closer look and Rhys and just see if he's still like. Conscious. ]

Well, well— Didn't expect to see you here, pumpkin. Gotta be honest, doesn't seem like your kinda scene.

[rhygret]

[ He's about bot exactly halfway under, but still able to hold his own in a conversation. It's that nebulous grey zone where you wish you were drunker than you are but you lack the willpower to chug the amount of Hokk required to achieve it. He wants to forget life for a bit, not get blackout drunk.

That's reserved for family get togethers.

Jack's voice brings his brows together in an annoyed, dramatically pained expression that lacks any real heart behind it as he shifts enough to lift his head and glance over. There's a brief moment where he's not sure if he really wants to entertain Jack's ego, but he's just inebriated enough to decide maybe tonight he just doesn't care. So he waves his hand dismissively. ]

Body odour, people vomiting on the floor...what's not to love? [ f u c k Westerly. This place sucks. But it's not home and that's currently what it has going for it right now in Rhys's opinion. ]

2b

[cauterised]

[Even without Kendry colors, Rhys is a sight hard to miss, with his expensive taste and well-groomed form and his mouth that doesn't seem to know the meaning of the word caution. She's only been on orders to escort him around twice, but it's been enough times to know that his parents would not be pleased to discover their son's dead body in one of Old Town's back alleys tomorrow morning.

So.

The barkeep's tapped on the shoulder, given a small folded piece of paper and enough joy to cover a second drink (much to the chagrin of her wallet) with a quick flutter of her eyelashes. A woman with interest in a man, for all anyone might guess, passing along a love note to her would-be suitor for the evening.

Nah, sorry buddy. The words scrawled into the torn paper are anything but loving, once they're delivered along with the second drink.]

Shut up.

[If he looks up across the bar, there'll be a stony face glaring at him. Hi.]

[rhygret]

[ It's probably one of the least aggressive personal notes he's ever been given by someone if he's being totally honest. Rhys is used to a certain amount of subtle scathing when it comes to messages passed between his peers, other entitled members of the Qresh royalty. Even those he considers himself on "friendly" terms fill their words with knives from time to time. So to have something this blunt and up-front, passed along with a second drink is a little refreshing.

If it hadn't just come from the bar tender, who Rhys happens to assume is the sender in his lightly-buzzed state of mind. ]

...Uhh. [ Wow. Look at him, being offended here now as he sits up straighter in his chair.

And sees Hawkeye, so that at least saves the poor barkeep the trouble of a Kendry talking-to. But he's still going to make a face and hold up the paper as if to ask, your doing? ]

week 2, a (i hope this is ok!)

[slotted]

[ leo doesn't like hanging out with the upper class at all. he used to be part of them, but things have gotten awful and he's been shoved to the backend of the food chain after his father died. nobody trusts him anymore.

things would be a lot better if the bars weren't full these past days. the harvest week has definitely amped up everybody's party mood, which is why the bars leo usually frequents—the cheap bars—are all full. he can't get in. it's why he resorts to checking out the higher end bars this time around. he hasn't been to one in ages, but he'll try to get in, anyway.

it all goes just as he's planned. he doesn't look like the type of man who has a lot of joy because of his social standing and his job, but he really does have a lot of joy in his bank. thanks to the fact that he feeds various people information, he's able to get more money than what he's being paid for each day at the cafe. leo hates spending, though, and this is only an exception to his usual situation.

thankfully, he doesn't have much difficulty getting into the bar. once he's in, he sits by the bartender and orders a bottle of whisky all to himself. yeah... this is happening. and it might not be weird, but when he traces his finger on the shape of the bottle like it's the prettiest thing he's ever seen, it might raise some eyebrows. ]

I'm here now.

[ HE'S TALKING TO THE BOTTLE............ ]

totally okay!!

[rhygret]

[ Yeah, that's. That's...yeah. It's one thing for drunks to murmur to themselves or to slip-up a bit if your buzz is just a little bit stronger than you anticipated. Maybe to mean to talk to one person and catch someone else by mistake. But just flat-out walking in, ordering a drink and talking to it?

Yeeeesh. This guy must've had an even harder week than Rhys (which is saying something because he hasn't had time for a facial all week and that is a goddamn tragedy.)

The guy also looks as distantly-related to one as you can get which means he's probably some nobody-worth-knowing, but Rhys is...actually in the mood for someone like that right now. Someone not related to all the family politics and bullshit. So he lets his disbelief be worn open (as if he ever does anything subtly), raising an eyebrow and addressing Leo from a few stools over. ]

Careful or they'll make you two get a room.

a!!! gosh you're so popular

[eggplanting]

[There are a lot of things that Steph would like to point out to Rhys, the main one being that the only thing he can hire her for is flying, not going out drinking. Or to the movies, or to grab a coffee, or whatever little adventure he invites her to. She comes because she's nice, and because it's pretty obvious to her that he's not very good at making friends. Maybe she sympathizes, or maybe he's just decent company (pun intended) because it's easy enough for her to keep a slightly professional barrier up, rather than risk spilling too much about herself.

Whatever.

Point is, she says yes when Rhys asks her to come drinking, and she's almost glad about it, since the atmosphere within the Company is hardly easy right now. She'd be more glad if he hadn't chose a place that's way above her price range, which shouldn't matter since he's the one paying, but she feels a little place.]

You could've warned me this was like, a super nice bar.

[She feels underdressed.]

[rhygret]

As opposed to...what? I told you we were staying on Leith. That should've been self-explanatory. [ And if Rhys hadn't made her cart him down to Westerly once or twice by now he would've asked when he does he ever not go to nice places, but getting trashed at a Westie bar that one time kind of ruins all...that. It was a bad life choice.

This however is an excellent life choice and Rhys looks perfectly at home in his three-piece, family colours proudly on display on one arm and a glowing, neon drink in the hand of the other. He actually looks more comfortable here than he does at the Company or among the other Royalty. Here there's less class-based obligations to worry about and a lot less competition. He's probably one of the biggest fish in the room actually, and that fills him with a lot more confidence than he has any right to.

But it may also help having Steph there. A little bit. ]

Besides, you look fine. ...Ish. It'll be fine. I mean, at worst they'll think you're a waiter and try to order drinks from you.

[ Has he mentioned how great he is at friends lately ]

3B

[r3f4c70r3d]

[It's been a few weeks since Angel made contact with Rhys, and for them most part things have been mundane. Every morning when he logs in, she greets him with a friendly "Hello and good morning" then puts him on the backburner as she gets other things on her roster done, only checking in when he asks for her (though pretending she's doing much more) and setting up his weekly schedule. Beyond that there's occasional idle chatting between them, but not much else. Today though, something is different.]

Rhys, I can't help but notice your work levels are much lower than usual today. Are you feeling alright?

[rhygret]

Hmm? What? [ Rhys twitches a little from where he's currently leaning heavily on one hand's palm against his desk, eyes nearly closed when she speaks up. He makes an attempt at snapping to attention, inhaling deeply and rolling his shoulders to try and alleviate the ache he can feel building there. ]

S, sorry, [ he yawns. ] mm fine. Just a little tired today is all. Did something important come in?

[ He lifts a hand to rub at his cybernetic eye gingerly, trying to will the pressure ad itchiness there away. He's probably overtired or stressed. The last few days have been pretty taxing. ]